


The Bond

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: In a world where soulmates share injuries and physical ailments, Y/N finds herself getting injured quite often because of her soulmate bond.  Will she be able to survive yet another drama, this time happening to her directly?  Will she ever meet her soulmate, or will they just know each other through injury?





	1. Chapter 1

You never could understand why this was all happening to you, of all people.  

What the hell did your soulmate do for a living that got them hurt so often?  Or were they always just getting themselves into situations where they got hurt; were they super clumsy?

You’d been in the hospital more times than anyone you knew, and it was never for something that happened directly to you but instead through your soulmate bond.  It started when you were four, landing in the hospital after your mom heard you screaming one night – everything was so cold and it felt like all the life inside was getting sucked out of your body.

The doctors couldn’t explain it, they merely said that your soulmate was probably seriously injured and it had some aftereffects on you.  No one could answer the question of what tragedy happened to your soulmate, who was still probably a  _child_ , that would have had this effect on you.

You got cuts and bruises constantly growing up, a few broken bones here and there.  Those were things you could handle, especially once you’d gotten used to it.

When you turned 20, you started having these weird visions of seeing people die and getting awful headaches to go along with them.  No matter what medicine you took, the headaches wouldn’t stop.  You didn’t dare tell anyone about the weird visions, only sharing the headaches with your family and doctors.  Having visions?  That was just too much for anyone else to understand.  Luckily the visions and headaches eventually stopped, making you think that your soulmate was on some sort of hallucinogenic drug for a while and sharing their trips with you.

During your senior year of college, a strange brand showed up on your forearm and you felt a bit off for a few days, but you figured your soulmate just got a weird tattoo.  You’d nearly gotten used to the idea when it disappeared about a week later and your wooziness went away as well.

It was the end of your senior year when the strangest thing of all happened.  You didn’t know what went down at the time except what your roommate told you later, but she found you one morning, dead in your bed.  They took you to the hospital, running a bunch of tests before hooking you up to machines.  Unfortunately, it was quite common for soulmates to die when their partner died, but most of the time they would come back to life once the connection was completely severed.  

You were dead for over three days before you woke up again, sending your parents into a nervous fit.  Your mother wouldn’t leave your side for months afterward, insisting that you move back in with them and stay home.  For a while you let her dote on you, but you knew that you needed to get on with your life.  After being dead and in the hospital, your outlook on life was completely changed, but the strangest part of it all was that your soulmate connection wasn’t gone – they hadn’t died.

You didn’t notice, of course, until a tattoo showed up on your chest one day.  This was definitely a tattoo, you knew, because it was black ink and everything, very different from the mark on your forearm from before. It was the first sign since your death that your soulmate was still alive, though, and you were filled with a strange mixture of relief and anxiety that they were still out there somewhere.

You got a job in a library, based on the fact that you loved books more than anything else and you decided it was a safe enough place for you to work, in case you got any more soulmate-based injuries.  The only problem with working at the library was that you found yourself researching all of the weird things that happened in your lifetime, trying to find a pattern of injuries that matched up to a real person out there.

You knew your soulmate was out there, somewhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Years passed, and while you got more injuries here and there through the bond, there wasn’t anything else serious that happened for quite a while.  You kept working at the library, eventually becoming one of the managers, with only the general manager your boss.  You loved working there, filling your spare time reading and enjoying the books that you kept, expanding your knowledge exponentially.  You made friends, went out for drinks after work, got your own apartment.  You had a comfortable life.

You dated casually, but never had a serious relationship.  Knowing that your soulmate was still out there kept you on reserve, even if you didn’t share with the world that they were still alive.  For all anyone else thought, your soulmate had died when you’d died, and that was that.

It was hard, dating like a normal person with everything you’d dealt with over your life.  One of your friends, Lena, was in a similar boat as you: she knew her soulmate was out there and existed because she’d had three broken bones as a child.  When you asked her how she approached dating, her answer was simple.

“Hook up all you want, girl,” Lena said.  “But always take a needle or something with you.  Prick your finger when you’re sittin’ with him, just to see if it pricks him, too.  If it does, hey there’s your soulmate!  If it doesn’t, may as well get a good fuck outta him before you leave the next day.”

While you didn’t do exactly as Lena suggested, because that was a bit over the top, you did date a bit. You could usually tell pretty quickly, based upon childhood stories, that the guys you were with weren’t your soulmate.  It was especially easy when there was a sleazy guy whose shirt was unbuttoned far enough to prove to you that he didn’t have the same tattoo as you.

* * *

It was about four years after your ‘death,’ when you were most comfortable and settled and  _happy,_  that things drastically changed.  It seemed that overnight all of your emotions completely disappeared.  You found yourself uncaring of anything, unable to motivate yourself to do more than the necessities: eating, drinking, sleeping, going through the motions of work. You stopped reading for pleasure, not seeing the point anymore.  You went out more, no longer the shy, injury-ridden girl that you’d always been, but allowing yourself to hook up with random people purely for the pleasurable part of the act.  If your parents or friends thought anything strange about your sudden change in behavior, they didn’t say anything to you about it.  Maybe they were just happy that you were living your life free from the shadows of your soulmate.

Until the day that you broke.

It was right in the middle of one of your shifts at the library, when you were staring off into space, not caring about where you were or what you were doing, that a searing pain echoed through your mind.  You couldn’t see the people around you coming to your aid; all you could do was listen to the horrible voice talking to you in your head, saying that he had come to play and that things were going to be so much fun…

When you were lucid again, you realized that you were in a mental hospital.  You had no reference of time passing, just vague bouts of sanity where you would see your parents, your coworkers, some friends, coming to see you. Sometimes you’d see a doctor, but the things that he said to you never made sense.

It seemed that your soulmate bond had finally done its part in your life – you were officially insane and there was nothing that anyone could do for you.  All that could happen was for you to live your life as comfortably as possible in the mental hospital, the only company being that voice in your mind.

* * *

When you were aware of your surroundings at the mental hospital, you found yourself playing games or singing songs.  There were little activities that the hospital had for its patients to engage in, ways that they tried to boost cognitive skills in simple ways.  It was as if you were a child again, learning to interact with others in between your episodes.

You made what could only be called friends while you were there.  Angela was a woman about fifteen years older than you who’d been living at the hospital for nearly her entire life, unable to control any of her mood swings. Most of the time, she was a very nice woman with a gentle attitude.  She had a few imaginary friends, but you often found yourself sitting with Angela at a Chinese Checkers board, playing with her and four imaginary people.

There was Reyna, who was severely disfigured because of an accident she was in during college.  She had only been at the hospital for a year or so, and was younger than you.  She didn’t talk much, but when she did it was whispers of things that she noticed around her: the people that lived there, the nurses who were nice and the ones who weren’t.  She commented on the family that came to visit some patients, and the lack of family visiting others.  She was obviously smart, but had lost the ability to judge whether a comment was necessary or rude.

And then there was James. You hadn’t really noticed James until one day when Reyna muttered, perhaps to herself but perhaps to you, “The obsessed man approaches.”  Your eyes looked around and you saw James walking up, manic smile on his face.

“Hey Y/N!” James said enthusiastically, sitting next to you at your table.  You were playing cards, or at least attempting to play Solitaire while the voice in your head teased you.  James scooted his chair closer to yours, his foul-smelling breath invading your senses.

“Hello James,” you replied, leaning away from him and beginning to pick up your cards.  There was something about James that put you off, making you very uncomfortable.  Luckily, you had a therapy session soon and you could use it as an excuse to leave. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go see the doc now.”

James nodded, watching as you walked away.  “Goodbye, sweet Y/N,” he said wistfully, eyes not leaving you until you’d rounded a corner. Reyna got up from the table as well, muttering observations to herself for no one else to hear.


	3. Chapter 3

After what seemed like an eternity at the mental hospital, another single moment changed your life again. You were in a group therapy session, talking with the voice in your head about one thing or another (you never truly knew what was going on when the voice was around), when all of a sudden, he disappeared.

Just like that, a cloud was lifted from your mind; the pain you’d been carrying around for the last six months was gone.  You were confused for a few minutes, unsure of what was happening to you but knowing that for the first time in a long time, you were no longer crazy.

You waited until the group therapy session was over, a time that felt like it lasted forever as the psychologist was trying to get Reyna to speak in front of everyone, before you went to speak with your doctor.  The two of you ran quite a few cognitive and behavioral tests before he agreed with you – your mental illness had disappeared and you were back to your old self again.  He insisted that you stay for a few more days, just to be sure, but you didn’t mind. A horrible thought in the back of your head that you would relapse kept pricking at your mind, so you waited out the days in your room, avoiding the other patients and instead reading books.

You realized quickly – you loved reading books again.  Not only had you gone back to the way you were before you were before the pain and craziness had entered your mind, you’d gone back to the way you were before you stopped caring about everything.  You were back to your old, normal self, and you could only wonder what had happened to your soulmate that would make all of this happen.

When you were released, you went back to your job at the library, thankful that your boss understood your tough life and that you just needed a sense of normalcy in your world. While you didn’t go back to being a manager, you were happy to just be working at the library once more.  You fell back into routine, happily checking in and out books, putting them away, ordering new ones, and reading as much as you could get your hands on.  It was like nothing bad had ever happened before, and you were happy.

As always, however, the happiness didn’t last; surprisingly, this time it was not because of your soulmate.

You were working the closing shift one night at the library, going through routine at the desk to clean everything up and putting books on the cart to be taken around the library and put back where they belong.  There wasn’t anyone else at the library with you anymore, the last customer having left ten minutes earlier.

You hummed as you worked, rolling the cart toward the shelves and putting books away.  The monotonous work was very soothing to you, a simple routine that calmed your nerves.  You were humming when you heard the door to the library open and close, signaling that someone else had come in for a last-minute book exchange before you closed.

“Be right there,” you called from the stacks, putting away the last few books in your arms before heading back out to help the customer.  You put on your best librarian smile, hoping that you could help the customer in no time so that you could lock the door.

When you rounded the edge of the shelves, you spoke out, “How may I help you this eve-“

That’s when your eyes met the customer’s, recognizing him as James, from the mental hospital.  You remembered now that you weren’t in the haze of delusion that James had always taken a liking to you with the way he always sat near you during group therapy or across from you at meals.  You didn’t know what was wrong with him for him to have been at the mental hospital, but from what you could remember, there was no way he should be out and free.

“James?” you asked, wondering what he was doing there.  “Can I help you?”

James smiled with a horrible glint in his eye that scared you.  You took a slow step backward, mind whirring as you considered your options.

“Of course you can help me, Y/N,” James replied, beginning to walk toward you and closing the distance quickly.  You took another few steps back until your back was against a row of shelves. “You’ve always been there for me, Y/N, but then you left me.  You left me alone, and I have missed you so much.  Now I’m here, though, and you’re with me, and you’re never going to leave me again.”

Realizing that James was advancing too quickly toward you, you turned to run away, trying to get to the back door of the library.  Obviously running was the wrong thing to do, however, because James screamed – a horrible, bone-chilling scream that made your heart beat even faster in terror.  

James was fast, too fast. He caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around.  He held you close to him, grinning still.  “Don’t ever leave me again, Y/N, we’re meant to be.”  James leaned his face in toward yours then, and you turned away from him, thinking he was going to kiss you.  He didn’t, however, instead taking a deep breath at your neck.

“You’re mine now, Y/N. Mine forever.”

With that, James turned, dragging you with him as he walked toward the front door of the library. You looked around for something, anything to help you get away from James.  As he pulled you past a set up of books on a round table, you grabbed for the metal sign on top, swinging it at his head.  

You hit him hard, the impact causing him to let go of your wrist to cradle his head.  This was your chance.  You turned and ran, going for the back door of the library as you’d been doing before.

“NO!” James yelled behind you, and you heard crashing.  You didn’t even have time to look back before James had tackled you to the ground, your right arm trying to catch your fall but snapping on impact underneath you. The horrible pain of breaking bone shook through your body, shocking you enough that James was able to pull you up and out of the library now with little fight from you.

Hundreds of miles away, Sam Winchester cried out from pain as well, his right arm breaking in the exact same place that yours had.  He cradled his arm to his chest, meeting eyes with Dean.

They both knew what that break meant.  Sam had a soulmate out there, and you’d just broken your arm.

“Oh, shit,” Sam mumbled, staring at his broken arm and wondering what you had gotten yourself into.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam went to the hospital for once, getting doctors to set his broken arm.  It wasn’t often that he or Dean broke their bones, normally just getting gunshots or scratches (deep or shallow), so he didn’t want to take any chances on having it heal properly.

He also didn’t know exactly how it was broken, as he hadn’t been the one to break his arm, his soulmate had.  

Dean and Sam didn’t speak on the way to the hospital or while the doctors and nurses were working, both of their minds whirring.  Sam’s arm breaking out of nowhere meant a few things to them.

First of all, it confirmed that Sam had a soulmate who was alive.

Second of all, it confirmed that everything that had happened to Sam throughout his lifetime had also been happening to someone else in the world, all because of him.

That was the thing that Sam was replaying over and over in his mind – every time he had gotten hurt on a hunt, every time he had been tortured, every time something had happened to him, it had also happened to someone else.  The guilt was eating him from the inside.  How could he be so stupid to lead the life he did and  _not_ consider that he had a soulmate out there somewhere, suffering through life with him with absolutely no knowledge of all the things he was doing?

Dean watched as his brother thought through his long, torturous life, not knowing what to say. Truthfully, it made Dean wonder if there was someone out there for him, suffering through life just like Sam’s soulmate was.

The last thing that Dean was thinking of was how this was now a huge liability.

Both Sam and Dean had gotten wrapped up in girls before, putting their hearts on the line and letting the bad guys use their weakness against them.  Not only was this going to be someone whom Sam would care for, because Sam’s heart was always big enough to care for another person, but this was going to be someone who could be used to hurt Sam.

When finally Sam was patched up, x-rays letting the doctors explain what they thought had happened – a bad fall where you had tried to catch yourself with your right arm – they sat in the room, waiting until they could safely escape and not be followed when their insurance came back fake.

“This is bad, Sam,” Dean mumbled, looking around.  Every few minutes someone would look in the window of their room, be it a nurse, doctor, patient, or random visitor to the hospital.  Every single one of them had Dean on edge.

“You’re telling me,” Sam retorted, scoffing.  “I’ve got a freaking soulmate out there who’s been going through life with all of my injuries.  How do you think I’m feeling right now?”

Dean nodded, eyeing another passerby through the window.  “We need to get out of here, fast.”

Sam nodded in agreement, following Dean’s eyes to the window.  A girl passed for what Dean could have sworn was the fifth time, making him stand and walk a few paces forward.  The girl froze, looking between Dean, Sam, and Sam’s broken arm.

As the Winchesters watched her, the girl’s eyes turned black, a feral smile settling on her face. Dean immediately took off toward the girl, but before he could open the door and get to the hallway, the demon possessing her had smoked away, taking the information that Sam had a soulmate with her.

Dean caught the girl as she fell, passing her off to a nurse as quickly as he could.  He stormed back into the room, picking up Sam’s jacket, and grabbing his good arm.  “We have to go,  _now_ ,” Dean growled, Sam not arguing at all as they escaped in the chaos.

They were battling time now. Sam and Dean knew that you existed, but now the demons knew too.

It was race to find the soulmate.

* * *

You woke up in a dark room, pain radiating from your arm when you tried to move.  You groaned, knowing that it was broken based upon your previous injuries in your lifetime.  You cradled your arm to your chest, sitting up.

You were sitting on a lumpy bed, the room around you dirty and old.  You had no idea where you were, only remembering that James had showed up at the library and obviously knocked you out, bringing you here.

Why did this have to happen to you?  You already had enough going on in your life with your soulmate connection, why did James have to add to the drama?

James was nowhere to be seen, however, so you looked around you.  First thing to take care of was your broken arm, or you wouldn’t be able to do anything else.  You grabbed the disgusting pillow, taking the pillowcase off and using your teeth to rip it into long pieces of fabric.  As carefully as you could, you wrapped your arm into a makeshift sling, pulling fabric pieces around your body and across your shoulders so that your arm was held against your chest.

The exertion of making your own sling must have gotten to you, however, because your eyes fell closed and you were surrounded by darkness once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Once Sam had his hands on a computer, he set to work searching hospital and clinic records for the entire country.  He thought of a time when he broke his wrist in elementary school, playing soccer on the school playground and searched for a 20-35 year old with any medical records that matched.  While the search was running, Dean organized and cleaned his weapons, getting anything and everything that they might need to fight off the demons who were after you.

Sam’s search came up with four hits in the continental US, so he hacked into all of the records, searching for any previous medical records that sounded familiar to him.

Yours was the third he looked at.

“Oh my God,” Sam breathed, eyes scanning your past medical history.  His stomach clenched at the things that you’d been through, all because of him.

“What?” Dean asked. “Did you find them?”

Sam nodded. “Her.  I found her.”

Dean came over to look at the computer screen over Sam’s shoulder.  “Unexplained coma, four years old.  Various broken bones and scars through her adolescence.  Signs of a car crash, 20.  Soulmate death, 22.  Lived in a mental hospital last year from hallucinations, released not too long ago…”

Sam gulped.  “What did I do to this poor girl?”

Dean sighed, unable to come up with anything to say that could make Sam feel any better.  He could only imagine what was going on if he had a soulmate out there.

“What’s done is done, Sam. Right now we need to find her.”

Sam’s fingers immediately began skimming the keyboard again, searching for your name and a current address. He didn’t know if you’d gone to a hospital for your current broken arm yet, but he searched that as well.

He quickly found your hometown and job, seeing that you worked at a library.  His heart swelled a bit, a fleeting thought of sitting and reading with you passing through his mind.  He shook his head, getting back to the task at hand.

“Let’s go,” he said to Dean, closing the computer and grabbing his bag with his good arm.  Dean followed immediately, taking directions from Sam and going well over the speed limit in hopes that they’d get to you first.

* * *

Sam and Dean walked into the library, heading straight for the desk where a young man was standing. “We’re looking for Y/N Y/L/N,” Dean said, flashing his detective shield he’d stolen from a guy a town over.  

The man was wide eyed as he answered.  “She didn’t show up for work today.  She didn’t even lock up last night, it’s really strange of her to forget something like that.  Manager’s worried, that’s for sure.”

Sam spoke next.  “Do you know anywhere she might be?  She’s not at her house, is there anywhere she hangs out?  Any friends she might be staying with?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry.  Y/N is pretty quiet, especially since she’s been back from the hospital.  Hasn’t gotten around to her old self quite yet.”

Sam’s eyes looked to the floor, his heart wrenching.  This was all because of him.  

Dean handed the man his card, insisting that he call if you showed up.  With a final nod, Sam and Dean were out the door, wondering what their next move would be.

* * *

You woke up in the dirty room once more, head much clearer than before.  Your arm still hurt, but at least now you could think through the pain, which was down to a dull throbbing.

You stood up, walking around the room.  The door, which you immediately tried to open, was locked, so you went to the window. It was dirty and it took you a minute to rub the grime off, but soon you were able to look outside.  

You recognized the street you were on, seeing that you were on the second or third floor of an abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of town.  You could see the library from where you were, which wasn’t surprising if James had had to carry you unconscious from the library.  He wouldn’t have been able to go far without being noticed.

You tried to open the window, but it was painted shut.  You paced the room, looking for any other ways to get out, but it was fairly bare. There was the bed, a chair in the corner, and a small side table, but no other furniture in the room.  Not even a nail that you could find to try to unlock the door.

You went back over to the window, wondering if anyone would walk by and hear you yell.  You sighed.  No one ever came down this street, at least not regularly.

A sharp pain shot up your leg, starting right by your ankle.  You yelped, sitting down on the bed to see what your soulmate was up to now. This wasn’t a break, but you definitely felt something happening.  As you lifted the bottom of your jeans and pulled down your sock, you saw it.

Etched in your skin, in shaky handwriting, were three words: Where are you?


	6. Chapter 6

Sam looked down at his ankle, using a tissue to clean up the small drips of blood that he’d created there. It was crude and a pretty horrible way of doing his job, but at this point he was desperate.  

Not only was he feeling the most intense guilt he’d ever had in his entire life, knowing that you were out there and had been put through everything that he’d been through in his life without knowing one thing or another about the supernatural world… He was also desperate to find you because he’d seen your face, he’d seen how beautiful you were, he’d found out that you worked at a library and thought that was adorable, and he knew now that you were in trouble.

There’s no way a girl like you would up and leave her job and her home, breaking her arm in the process and not go to the hospital.  Something was wrong, Sam felt that deep in his bones.

He stared at his ankle at the words he’d written, hoping that the same words had shown up on your skin. He waited, listening to Dean talk on the phone to the local police station, using his most authoritative voice to find out any information about you or your whereabouts.  

Sam waited, the world seeming to close in on him, staring at his skin.

And then he felt the pain.

It was further up his leg, and he had to raise his jeans even farther to see what it was.  Sure enough, though, a thin line was being cut into his skin.

Not too many miles away, just on the other side of town, you’d found another wave of enthusiasm to helping yourself.  You’d broken off a metal spring of the bed from underneath the mattress, hoping that it wouldn’t give you a serious infection if you just broke the skin.

All you wrote was the cross street that you saw outside the window, Elm and 6th.  Any more words than that and the pain would be too much, you hoped that your soulmate could use those generic street names to find you.

The words done, you put down the metal spring and blew slightly on your cut skin, the burning sensation of pain dulling already.  Slowly you rolled your jeans down again, covering up the words.

Now you would wait.

You stood up, pacing the room again.  Every few minutes you went to the window, desperately waiting for someone – anyone – to walk down the street.  At this point, you didn’t care if it was your soulmate, you just wanted someone to get close enough that they’d hear you scream for help.

A half hour went by, no one around.  When you’d nearly given up, you saw a person round the corner and raised your hand to bang on the window.  You have it two hard hits, yelling, “HEY!” as loudly as you could, making the person look up at you.

It was James.  He gave you a feral grin as he began to jog toward the building, your heart beginning to beat even harder.  James was  _not_  the person you wanted to see.

At that exact moment, two more men rounded the corner, walking quickly and with purpose.  You watched out the window, terrified to yell again with James so close, but hoping with all your might that those two men were there to help you.

As you were watching, the two men caught up to James, startling him as they grabbed his shoulders. You watched from above as they talked heatedly for just a few seconds, the men meeting eyes before one of them quickly and efficiently snapped James’s neck, making him drop dead on the spot.

You screamed in shock, immediately covering your mouth and stopping the sound, but it was too late. The two men heard you, looking up quickly to see you standing in the window.  You backed up, away from the window, right at the same time that they began running toward the building, hoping that they wouldn’t be able to find you.

Now completely panicked, you searched the room again, even more desperate than before to find something, anything, to help you either get out of the room or defend yourself from those two men.  They’d just killed James, your kidnapper, who knew what they’d do to you when they found you.

You were ransacking the bed once more, trying with your one good arm to break off a bigger piece of metal that you could use to do something…when the door flung open.

You backed yourself into the corner of the room, at a complete loss of what to do.  You watched as the two men came in the room, eyes sweeping over the nearly empty space before landing on you.

“Broken arm,” one of them said, taking a few steps toward you.  “It’s got to be her.”

“Yes, it surely is,” the other answered, advancing on you as well.  You watched, heart racing, as the two men came closer, no where for you to go as they advanced.  Without saying another word, they grabbed you, one holding your good arm and the other grasping at your shoulder, manhandling you out of the room.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked, wondering who these men were and what they were going to do. They’d just killed James, you had no idea what to think.

“Somewhere you’ll never forget,” one of them said, looking at you with a smirk that sent chills down your spine.  As you walked through the door with them, his eyes turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was racing down the streets, still somewhat unbelieving that Sam had scratched a message to you on his skin and then you had actually  _answered back_  in the same way.  Maybe the two of you were cut from the same crazy cloth, after all.

“The intersection should be just up here, a block ahead.  Looks like a fairly abandoned part of town,” Sam said, eyes flitting from the map on his phone to the road ahead.  Dean saw the streets counting down – 9th Street, 8th Street, 7thStreet…

The Impala screeched to a stop at the corner, Sam and Dean getting out of the car and looking around.  Sam’s eyes were immediately drawn to the abandoned multi-story apartment building ahead, somehow knowing that you were inside.

“This way,” he insisted to Dean, his brother not arguing in the least.  Sam ran up the steps of the building, opening the door quickly and running into the lobby.  At one point in time, the apartment building was probably pretty nice, he thought to himself, but now it was obviously abandoned.  The boys stood there for a moment, debating where they should search first.

The sound of footsteps and a whine of pain made their decision for them and they followed the sound through another set of doors and to the atrium.

Sam immediately recognized you from the pictures on your medical records and he raised his gun to point at the men who were currently manhandling you between them.  “Let her go!” he yelled with authority, Dean cocking his gun next to them.

You looked scared, but then your eyes fell to Sam’s broken arm, wrapped in his sling.  Your eyes widened and you gulped, knowing in that instant that your soulmate had gotten your message; he was here to save you. You weren’t at all surprised that he had a gun – with as many injuries as you’d had over the years through your bond with him, your soulmate having a gun made perfect sense.

“No way we’re giving her to you, Winchester,” the man whose hand was on your shoulder said.  He moved to grab at your broken arm, making you scream in pain.

Sam immediately dropped to his knees as well, the pain radiating from you to him through your bond.

“No, we’re definitely keeping her for fairly  _obvious_  reasons,” the other sneered, and that’s when his eyes went black, letting Dean and Sam see that they were demons.

“Sam, you okay?” Dean asked, gun still trained at the demons holding you.  The demon’s grip tightened on your broken arm, making Sam gasp in pain again.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Sam insisted through gritted teeth.  “Just…”

Dean knew what Sam wasn’t able to put into words, but they seemed to be at an impasse.  If Dean moved, the demons would hurt you more, which in turn would hurt Sam.  As Dean stood there, trying to make a plan, your eyes were glued on Sam’s.

You hadn’t even met him, but it was like you could understand his every thought.  He was here to save you, but because of these bad men, both of you were being hurt.  The only way for his friend, Dean, to help you was if the two of you were hurt even more.

“Got the knife?” Sam asked Dean, not taking his eyes off of you.  Dean hummed in affirmation, pulling it from it’s place without changing his aim. Now he had a gun in one hand, knife in the other, and you and Sam were still locked eye-to-eye.

“It’s all going to be okay, Dean,” Sam said to his brother, his reassuring words telling you that he was ready.  You nodded, understanding immediately what Sam meant.  You looked to the man who was holding your broken arm, seeing that he held a fairly loose grip since you were in pain.  The other man, however still had a powerful grip on your uninjured arm, so he was the one you’d need to worry about.

Your eyes met Sam’s once more before the two of you took a breath together.  Dean’s eyes were trained on you, trying to follow your thoughts.

You mouthed to both of them, making sure the men who held you couldn’t hear or see:  _Three, two, one_.

With as much energy as you could muster, you twisted your broken arm out of the loose grip of the man holding it, stamping on the foot of the other man as hard as you could so he would let go.  Pain erupted through your arm as you fell to the ground, Sam’s yell echoing yours. Your eyes were closed as you cradled your arm on the floor, but you heard and felt scuffling above and around you. Gunshots rang out and yells sounded until finally everything was quiet.

You were still in the fetal position when a hand brushed your shoulder then carefully pushed the hair away from your face.  When you opened your eyes, you saw hazel ones looking back at you.

Sam helped you sit up, trying his best to keep your arm still for both of your sakes.  “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, and you nodded, looking around.

Dean was pulling a knife from one of the bodies, and you saw that the throat of the other had a knife wound as well.

“They’re dead, it’s over,” Sam assured you, and you nodded again.  “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I think we should get your arm taken care of first.  Sound good?”

You looked up at Sam, seeing genuine concern and care on his face.  “Sounds great,” you replied before using your good hand to pull his face to yours, kissing your soulmate for the first time.

All of the pain in your arm seemed to disappear as your lips molded together, everything in the world suddenly balanced.  It didn’t matter why you had always gotten hurt through your bond, you didn’t care what it was that Sam did with his life.  He had saved you, in more ways than one, and now you were never letting him go.

With the way Sam kissed you back, you were pretty sure he wasn’t going to let you go, either.


End file.
